Where Vengeance Begins
by Cheeky Slytherin Lass
Summary: Brutus Malfoy never cared what Muggles did. That all changed the moment he was attacked.


_For the Hogwarts Forum_

 _Writing Club- Showtime, "Stay Alive" (retreat)_

 _Word Count: 1728_

 _A/N: Brutus Malfoy is a canon character who lived when Muggles persecuting witches and wizards was a full swing. Avelina Weasley is my creation._

* * *

Brutus Malfoy's lip curls in distaste as he walks a little too close to the Muggle village. From the stories he's heard, they've always been insufferable. Now, however, with their unceasing persecution of the magical community and their repulsive witch hunts, they're little more than scum in his eyes. He wonders if they'll ever realize that a majority of the sorry souls they've put to death had been Muggles as well, nothing magical about them at all. He shrugs. Let them destroy themselves; it doesn't matter to him.

A soft shuffling sound behind him catches his attention. Instinctively, Brutus draws his wand and turns. In the split second it takes him to recognize the four villagers he now faces, a sudden weight cracks against his forehead. Vision blurring slightly, he barely registers the heavy stone, now marbled with a slick crimson, at his feet.

Brutus opens his mouth to send a hex their way, but a second stone thuds against his chest, knocking the wind out of him.

"See that, Gideon?" one of the men calls, hurling another stone that crashes painfully against Brutus' jaw. "Lord Darnley was right! He has a wand!"

"Stop this at once!" Brutus snaps, his voice softer than he'd like; he still hasn't quite recovered from the blow to the chest.

The four men laugh before rushing him. Given his weakened state, Brutus is not fast enough to strike back. Two grab his arms. A third jerks Brutus' wand from his hands as a fourth- the leader, Brutus assumes- circles them, a predatory smile playing at his thin lips. "Looks like we'll be getting that gold, boys," he says triumphantly as he takes the wand from his companion.

Brutus glares at him, his blood boiling. "What reason do you have to attack an innocent traveler?" he demands, trying to ignore the soft trickle of blood that spills slowly from his bottom lip.

"Innocent?" one of the men holding Brutus' arms laughs. "Hardly innocent, I'd wager. Lord Darnley said you're one of _them._ "

Brutus feels his heart race painfully in his chest. He's never cared to learn to fight with his fists; even if he knew that barbaric form of combat, he's outnumbered and doesn't like his chances. His eyes flicker to each Muggle, his stomach twisting into knots. This is how he's going to die- wandless and helpless at the hands of Muggles.

"Did Darnley say if he wants the bastard dead or alive?" the Muggle who had stolen Brutus' wand asks, a sadistic glint in his murky brown eyes.

The leader considers this, turning Brutus' wand over in his hands. "Alive, I think. I'm sure our patron would allow us to get a little information out of him," he laughs. "As you were, Bradford."

The one with the wicked eyes moves in, cracking his knuckles. "You are too kind, Gideon," he says, fingers curling inward to form fists.

Brutus struggles against his captors' grips, but they hold too tightly. "See here, I am a Malfoy, and I will not be treated like a common-"

The sentence fades into a howl as Bradford's fist slams into his face. Brutus feels his lip split. "Don't give a damn about your name, boy," he says. "How many of your kind are near our village?"

"I'm not sure what you-"

Again, he feels those knuckles strike his face. Brutus hisses, thrashing wildly. "Release… rel-"

Another blow, this one to Brutus' stomach.

"Gideon, fetch me a study limb. I believe we need to beat it out of this scoundrel."

"Brutus, darling! There you are!"

The sudden sweet voice distracts the villagers. Brutus weakly lifts his head to see a sender woman with freckled skin and a warm smile in spite of the horrendous scene she's walked in on emerge from the woods. A ray of sunlight brightens her mess of red curls.

Avelina Weasley moves closer, her bare feet kicking up a small cloud of dust in her wake. "Should we tell them that it's fake?" she asks with soft giggle, gesturing at the wand Gideon still holds. "Let me see it."

Brutus holds his breath. Surely the villagers will turn on her. The Weasley family might live in close quarters with the Muggles, but these brutes will see through her act.

"Return to your home, Miss Weasley," Gideon says. "This is not something a delicate woman should see."

Avelina doesn't seem to care. She extends a hand, batting her eyelashes. Hesitantly, Gideon hands her the wand.

"See?" she laughs. "It's just a silly stick. Hocus pocus!"

The Muggle men recoil. Brutus almost laughs.

"A silly stick," Avelina repeats.

The villagers exchange uncertain glances. Bradford seems to recover quicker than the rest. "Why were you in the woods? How do we know you aren't a witch, gathering things to summon demons?" he demands, and Brutus doesn't like his dangerous tone. If he hurts his beloved Avelina….

The young woman giggles again, the epitome of innocence as she lifts a basket. "Perfect weather for gathering berries," she says sweetly, lifting the top to reveal an array of reds and purples.

Silence hangs in the air, the tension heavy. Brutus' heart flutters like mad, the anticipation killing him. After what feels like an eternity, the two holding his arms release him, and he falls unceremoniously to the ground.

"Lord Darnley won't like this," Bradford says, still looking at Brutus with murderous eyes.

"We aren't in the business of killing innocent men," Gideon says simply. "The Weasleys have good standing with the village. I will trust Miss Avelina's word. Lord Darnley does not need to know what has transpired here."

Brutus watches in amazement as the men retreat. He scrambles to his feet, reaching for his wand, ready to hex them for daring to cross him, but Avelina keeps it from him. "No, my love," she whispers. "Do not let anger cloud your judgement."

"My mind is quite clear, thank you," he snaps, but his precious Avelina is too stubborn to give in.

"Come. I will tend to your wounds."

Brutus scowls. He wants to argue. His injuries are the last thing on his mind; all he wants is to have his revenge.

Before he can protest, Avelina takes his hand gently in hers. "Come, my love."

…

Brutus glares as Avelina dabs a healing potion on his wounds. "You should have let me attack them," he says. "You are too soft, Avelina. Those creatures have no redeeming qualities, and there is no use trying to protect them anymore."

Avelina doesn't respond. She gently cups Brutus' chin in her hand, guiding his head this way and that. With her free hand, she dips her cloth in the potion again before pressing it to the wizard's jaw.

"How can you be okay with this?" he demands.

"You have never cared about what Muggles do," she answers, dropping her hand and stepping back, offering him a nod of approval. "Even when these ridiculous hunts began, you showed no interest. All you said was that their prejudices will be their downfall."

Brutus touches his fingers to his face, carefully feeling for any damage. With a rush of relief, he realizes there's no tenderness left. "You have always been wonderful at healing," he tells her, pointedly ignoring her comment. He climbs to his feet and moves to the mirror, studying his reflection.

"Brutus," Avelina says softly.

"I am not prejudiced, darling," he tells her, eyes narrowing. "I was attacked! This is righteous anger, Avelina!"

"And I'm certain the Muggles felt their campaign against us was justified," she says. "We must rise above this and be better than them."

Brutus turns, nostrils flaring. His hands tremble, and he clenches them, seemingly trying to calm himself. "We _are_ better than them! Think of our power, Avelina! Why should we be forced to hide?"

"You've had a blow to the head, my love," she says, moving closer and wrapping her slender fingers around his arm. "Rest. When you wake, I'm sure your thinking will be clearer."

Brutus wants to lash out, but Avelina's touch seems to keep him grounded. He swallows dryly, grudgingly allowing his beloved to lead him to the bed. "Mark my words, Avelina," he says as she places the blanket over him, "the Muggles will destroy us if we do not band together."

She places a gentle kiss on his forehead. "Rest, Brutus."

When he closes his eyes, there is no sudden serenity, no revelation that Avelina is right. As he drifts slowly to sleep, Brutus feels a fire blazing through his veins. He will find a way to bring down the filthy beasts.

All he can see when his eyes close is the downfall of the Muggles. He can imagine it so vividly in his mind. The pitiful things will cower, and the witches and wizards will rise.

No other quest has ever seen worthwhile, and, with thoughts of sweet vengeance in his head, he falls into the darkness of sleep.

…

A year later, Brutus sits in a smoky corner of the pub, surrounded by the contributors for _Warlock at War._

"There is no surer sign of weak magic than a weakness for non-magical company," he tells the gentlemen before taking a deep drink of ale.

"The Weasleys come to mind," Ezra Nott snorts.

The name sends a painful jolt through his body. He's tried to force his thoughts away from his beloved Avelina all this time, but now her sweet face swirls in his vision.

After the attack, it had only taken three months for their relationship to fall apart. She and her family had barely been able to spare him even a slight glance since.

Before the others can notice the pain in his eyes, Brutus quickly composes himself. He sits a little straighter, pushes his chest out- anything to look impressive. "The Weasleys are the worst," he says. "They would happily give up their wands and live among the savages if given the chance!"

This earns a round of laughter and cheers. Brutus swallows down the guilt.

He still loves Avelina. Maybe that will never go away. If not for the attack, they might still be together, happy and content with their lives, preparing for their wedding.

He'll never know. The Muggles have taken that away from him, and he will not rest until they pay for their transgressions.


End file.
